Dread in Nevada
by Makuta52
Summary: Out in the middle of nowhere, the infamous Dreads are wasting away waiting for some action...until Crankcase gets an idea. Major stupidity is assured.


**A/N: Hey readers, this is Makuta52, writing my second fanfiction! This one's way different from my first one (I guess you can check it out?), centering on one of my favorite franchises of all time: Transformers! Who doesn't love robots beating the crap out of each other? Well…other than movie critics.**

**With that said (kinda not), I'll see you guys at the bottom! Enjoy!**

Transformers is owned by Hasbro Toys. Not me.

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><p>The sun blazed overhead in a desert in Nevada. Dust and sand rolled around as if being played by an invisible child in a gigantic sandbox. In the middle of the unforgiving land sat an abandoned group of large warehouses, the closest to human contact being a road several miles away. From said road came a shimmering black car, which swerved right off the highway. Not that any other car driving would see it anyhow. It drove through the barren wasteland for sometime before coming up to the building, slowing upon arrival.<p>

Once coming to a complete stop, the suburban vehicle began to contort and shift in an alien fashion. Its front hood and roof retracted into itself, while its wheels seemed to disappear along with them. Limbs protrude out of the hulking mass, two forming sleek sharp arms, two others turning into equally sharp legs. Multiple whip-like appendages came out, along with a four-eyed head, filled to the brim with serrated irregular teeth.

Crowbar cracked his neck as he made his way to the front of the main structure. Upon closer inspection, the Decepticon assassin found another one of his allies rolling around outside their new base. The creature looked similar to Crowbar, with the same cool-cut frame and sharp metal edges, but looked more like a feral dog, spreading its rancid grime and spit all over. It dug at random intervals at the ground, which gave Crowbar a timid looking smile on his ugly mug.

"Hatchet! Come here boy!" Crowbar cooed to the four-legged Con, who barked happily at seeing him. Hatchet skidded as he ran to be petted by the taller mech, who waved something in front of his metal face.

"Here boy! Go fetch the bone!" The sleek Decepticon chucked a rather large bone that was probably stolen from a museum, and watched as his pet-for-a-spy ran off to retrieve. He chuckled as he walked through a makeshift door into the main complex building. He scanned the rather open corridor finding it the way he left it.

Many metal boards and frames had been taken from the other buildings to be used for several structures that would have towered over the indigenous species of Earth, but looked rather normal for the Cons. Equipment was scattered on multiple tables, such as weapons and tinkering equipment. A broken airplane abandoned along with the base hung in two as décor for the current residents. A rather large monitor sat on top of a shorter piece of furniture, looking oddly like an entertainment center. On a shoemaker-looking couch next to it sat another metal creature, again looking similar to Crowbar. The resting mech held a remote control, lazily flipping through channels on the television.

"There's never anything on here on this planet…" Crankcase mumbled to himself.

"Did you ever try, oh, I dunno, doing something _other_ than watching reality T.V.?" Crowbar teased, alerting his bored friend of his presence.

"Hey, at least I'm not stalking humans like some horny old creep!" Crankcase retorted.

A metal claw to the face was Crowbar's response. Crankcase moaned as he tried to get his jaw back in place while his aggressor went to a huge cabinet behind him. Crowbar opened the closet to find one last box of Energon snacks. He sighed a mechanical sigh.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the rest of the Energon is, would you Crankcase?" Crowbar asked over his soldier.

"Uh…well…I might have kinda…gave them all to Hatchet…" The other Con stuttered.

"What?" Crowbar was on him like a hawk on a mouse. "Those were the last ones until the next shipment!"

Crankcase through his arms up in defense, ruffling his mechanical dreads. "Calm down! We can get some more when THAT shipment comes!"

"The next shipment doesn't come for six more Earth months!" Crowbar growled. "We'll starve by then!"

"Why don't we just eat the humans? They look like tasty morsels to quell are appetite."

"No! That's disgusting! We might get rabies from those vile things!"

"I thought that was when you cut yourself with something rusty."

"That's Tetris, Crankcase."

"Oooooh…" Crankcase scratched his chin, contemplating an idea to get the three assassins some grub. "Oh! I got something!"

"Really now?" Crowbar stared at him skeptically. "What has your minuscule brain thought up for us?"

"OK, so this is what we - Hey!" Crankcase quickly caught on to his cohorts insult, but shrugged it aside. "Anyway, us two will-"

The sound of static coming from the television interrupted the mech's speech. Crowbar ignored Crankcase by walking over to the monitor and waited. The ignored Con spat on the ground, angry about being rejected so quickly. He too made his way to the screen. After a minute or two, a familiar "friend" appeared before them, looking non-to-happy. His triangular figure lurched as he stabbed a finger at the two.

"Crowbar. Crankcase. How are you mental infants holding up in Nevada?" The Decepticon seeker teased.

"Shove it, Starscream. What do you want, other than to complain?" Crowbar returned the discourtesy to his superior.

"Just checking in on all operatives at their bases, per Lord Megatron's orders," Starscream growled. "I don't know why we keep you three around, but Shockwave insists, and whatever he wants he gets."

"Yeah, he's cool like that." Crankcase praised the cyclops childishly. "Oh! Starscream! I have a question."

"What do you want, moron?" Starscream replied, ignoring the Dread flinging his arm around like his was in school.

"Well, OK. We're out of - Hey!" Crankcase again caught wind of an insult to him. "We're out of Energon here, so would you be mad if we went to the nearest town and gathered up some human food?"

"WHAT?" Crowbar and Starscream simultaneously blew their gaskets. "Are you an idiot, Crankcase? We just can't flaunt our way into town and expect them to give us food." Crowbar shouted.

"That's the beauty about it! We'll be hiding in our vehicle forms so we can go get food from those through-drive places!" Crankcase folded his arms in superiority.

Crowbar stared at him with his mouth gaping, Starscream shouting at them from the monitor. "Don't you even think about it, you stupid f-" Crankcase pressed the mute button on the remote, silencing the Decepticon air commander. "Come on, Crowbar. It'll be fun! You said I should do something other than sit on my ass all day, so let's go!"

"Hmmm…" Crowbar thought it over, weighing his options. "…Oh alright, fine. We'll leave at sundown."

His cohort through his arms in victory. "Woo-hoo! Road trip!"

"On ONE condition, though," Crowbar stuck a finger out. "We leave Hatchet. He'll probably eat someone, or something. Maybe a whole building."

Somewhat disappointed, Crankcase frowned, but complied. "Oh…OK." He walked out of the building to tell their companion the news. Crowbar rubbed his head as he too left their humble abode, leaving a screaming mime out of Starscream on the television.

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><p>Just as planned, the two assassins left the compound when the sun began to set, leaving a sad Hatchet to stroll around their home alone. Crowbar didn't mind, thinking their ally would be able to survive without them for just the night. Crankcase, on the other hand, hated the idea of going without all three of them. He knew, however, what the consequences would be if they alerted any authorities, or were seen by anyone at all!<p>

The Chevrolet Suburbans rode up into the closest town, disappointed by the size of it, but not surprised. It was a small one, with very few shops and restaurants, dotted here and there next to some homes ranging from OK living conditions to run-down joints a rodent wouldn't even want to stay in. Luckily for the Cons, and for the town for the matter, there was a half decent place to eat. Crankcase spoke to his partner-in-crime through the radio.

"There! A restaurant. Maybe its a Burger Donald, or a McKing!" Crowbar was amazed with his friend's stupidity, it couldn't be described with words.

"Whatever…you go on ahead. I'll wait for you in the parking lot." Crowbar broke off from their route as they entered the shop's perimeter. He accomplished his easy task of parking and waited for his brain-dead friend. _I mean, come on? He bad can he screw up?_

Crankcase found no one in line for the "through-drive," so he gladly drove up to the window. The woman there stared at the car, annoyed that the driver hadn't rolled down his tainted window so she can take his order. She leaned out and tapped on the glass with her knuckle.

"Hey, buddy. You going to open up so I can give you your food already?" She angrily spoke.

"Oh, sorry ma'am," Came the reply. The attendee didn't know what to make out of it. The window was still up, and yet she heard a voice coming from the car. She shook her head. "Whatever, what do you want?"

"Well let's see…I think I'll have a half-a years supply of Big Whoppers, and a truck filled with whatever kind of soda you prefer. Oh, and a large shake for me."

The woman was dumbstruck. "I…don't think we can get you that big of an order, sir."

"Oh, my friends and I can wait for the shake, doll-face." Crankcase obliviously spoke.

"No sir. I mean our staff can't make a meal that large on such short notice," The woman replied disdainfully. "Also, I doubt you're wallet is that large, mister…uh…"

"Case. Crank Case, darling. And I like my shake stirred, not shaken." The Con stated. He heard the lady attendee shout into the store, but all he needed to here was the word 'police' to know something was wrong. Defying the rules, Crankcase transformed out of his secondary mode and knelt down in front of the window. "I'm sorry miss, please don't call the police! I'll leave without the shake."

The woman turned around and screamed, the Con's blood red optics staring at her. "Frank! FRANK! There's a Jamaican robot outside the store!" She shouted, frightened by the new 'arrival.'

Crankcase shook his head and wagged his finger at her. "Now ma'am, that's just plain racist, and I will not tolerate it. May I speak to this Frank fellow about customer support? I wish to file a complaint."

"You IDIOT!" Crankcase heard a screech behind him, only to turn and be greeted by a metal fist punching him in the head. Crowbar was…less than happy.

"Moron! We're supposed to 'robots in disguise,' not 'robots looking for a god-damn meal'!"

"OW! You punched me in the jaw…again!" Crankcase stood up, rubbing his face. "You could have actually heart me, Crowbar!"

"Then I'll try harder next time! Come on, I can already hear sirens, we need to book it. NOW."

Crowbar took hold of his friend's hand, dragging him away from the restaurant. Crankcase resisted, scrapping at the pavement, pulling up stone, grass, and the like. "Wait, wait, Crowbar!" The Dread pleaded.

"What now?"

"Do you think they have Pizza Bagels? I love those things!"

Another slap to the face was enough to shut the Con up. The two quickly transformed and hightailed it out of the town, leaving a group of redneck policemen to clean up a torn up drive-through with a babbling attendee and a confused manager named Frank.

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><p>Daylight flooded through the panels on the warehouse's ceiling, blinding Crankcase as he laid spread out on the makeshift couch, again surfing the tube in vain. Hatchet slept under a desk he had proclaimed as his own, snoring and burping while he did so. The sound of metal on pavement made Crankcase look up from the monitor to find Crowbar entering the building. He disdainfully looked back at the television, wanting to avoid a conversation with the other Con.<p>

"Oh come on, Crankcase. Don't act like such a brat," Crowbar scoffed as his gaze fell upon the other Dread. "You act like this every time you don't get what you want."

"Not everything…" Crankcase mumbled.

"Really? Remember the puppy you asked for last year? Or how about when you wanted to invade a town solely because a human was having a barbecue?"

"Hey, those ribs smelled delicious! Besides, its not my fault they scattered all over the place when I so politely knocked on their door." The Dread retorted.

"You bashed half their house in!" Crowbar exclaimed.

"On accident!"

Crowbar sighed. "Whatever. Here, I got you something while I was out today."

Crankcase looked up to see his partner holding up a tiny bag between two of his fingers, as if he didn't want to crush whatever was in it. He carefully took the miniature bag from Crowbar, and looked inside. His optics lit up with happiness. Within the bag was a greasy hamburger, along with a side of bagels covered in cheese and sauce.

"Aww! Crowbar, you shouldn't have!" Crankcase cheered in joy.

"Here, I bought you this too." Crowbar handed his already stunned friend something else, adding to his enjoyment.

"A shake too! Oh my god! You're the best friend a Decepticon could have!" Crankcase clapped happily.

Crowbar smirked. "Yeah, I know. Enjoy. I have to go check on…something outside." His vague answer was ignored as his fellow Con had begun to gorge himself on the meal. Hatchet had awoken and scampered outside the compound, rolling around in his usual spot. Crowbar chuckled as he walked by, an act that worried the dog-like mech. He bounded up to the taller robot and gave him a stare that read, "What did you do to that shake?"

"Oh, nothing much." Crowbar continued to chuckle. From inside the main building the two heard an unbelievably unpleasant squeal of terror, followed by the sound of throwing up.

"This isn't a shake! This is robot piss!"

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><p><strong>AN: I'm so immature. It scares me.**

**Anyway, I noticed that no one had written a story with any of the Dreads as main characters. I thought they were pretty bad-ass in the movie, even though they went down like most of the other Transformers: Like they were made of balsa wood. Ah well. I think they deserve at least one story. **

**I make a few references in the story, maybe you can find them. This story and humor was indeed inspired by Artic Banana, who makes the funniest Transformers fanfics I've ever read. I mean, damn, is she funny. If you're a fan of crack stories about Transformers, she's the best I've seen so far. **

**Thanks for reading, review if you want, and have a Happy New Year everyone! Hope you had a Merry Christmas! / Happy Holidays!**

**EDIT: Wanted to fix up somethings within the story. No biggy. Don't be alarmed (I doubt you are). **


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